


A lesson in order

by Ruby_Nightmare



Category: Hellraiser & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Light Sadism, light mutilation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby_Nightmare/pseuds/Ruby_Nightmare
Summary: Barbara seeks to solve a fabled puzzle box in search of the occult. She is met with the company of dark guests, branding her a heretic to their lord, Leviathan. Rather than be thrown to Hell, she is left to Smother, the Gash's enforcer.
Kudos: 1





	A lesson in order

The sound of crunching gravel had Barbara perk up from her book. As if creeping through a minefield she tiptoed to the edge of her window, watching for the piercing glow of headlights. She counted the seconds as they passed, every tick of time a gnat on her skin, nibbling furiously until the headlights had vanished. The mousy redhead practically dived to the floor once the coast was clear, opening the bottom drawer of her desk where she began digging through a stratum of material related to philosophy, science, and art; nothing more than a scapegoat for what lied hidden beneath.

She retrieved a small rectangular box before returning to her seat at the side of her bed. She scanned the lacquered wood with inquisitive eyes, admiring the impeccable level of craftsmanship and vulgar depictions on the box. The sight of one particular figure bent over another like a dog was enough to produce a giggle. 

As far as she knew, the box had been crafted by LeMarchand, or so it'd been alleged. She had been a shade more eager than she should have been when she had received it, leaving her skepticism out to dry without asking too many questions. An occult fanatic like herself would have been ashamed to not immediately jump at the opportunity, and she had pounced like a tiger. 

Lost within her marveling, she thumbed along an indention in the wood, running towards the box clasp. With a flick, the clasp opened, relieving tension slightly upon the lid. She froze in place, feeling as if an immense pressure has been released. Unease rose within her, fearing that chaos might come spilling out like a gale from Pandora's Box. The uncertainty within her swelled, forcing her to flip the lid open with a jolt. She suddenly looked as if she'd been doused with cold water. There was no torrent of souls, no profane sigil, Hell, not even a shrunken finger or something just as trivial. Talk about a dud, considering all that anxiety, not to mention the myth behind it.

Cheeks, rosy with embarrassment, puffed up and decompressed with a sudden sigh. The woman's gaze fell into the box, eyes widening upon inspection. Slowly the intrigue washed back in like a tide, her mental toes caught in the rolling waters. With the absence of anything morbid, or anything she could immediately register or recognize, she had nearly overlooked its contents. Set within the base is a configuration unlike anything she had ever seen, intricately interlaced with many a lever, bar, and gear, all caged around a smaller container of some sort. It took only seconds for her renewed curiosity to turn into an obsession, hounded by the thought of what hid within.

-

Whether it had taken seconds, minutes, or hours to finish the puzzle, Barbara couldn't tell. She sat within a pool of sweat on her bed, eyes stinging from the low light offered by her bedside lamp. Her body blazed with euphoria, a feeling of weightlessness and tingling that overtook her skin and muscles. It felt as if she could combust on the spot, beads forming steadily over her hooded brow.

Finally, though, she had her prize: a small needle retrieved from the innermost chamber of the box. It was no more than a few millimeters wide and about four inches in length, fashioned from ivory of some sort. The more she tried to focus on it, the more her skin began to burn, and the more her thoughts boiled. Between her fingers, she could feel the needle thrumming with its own energy. The sensation sparked something within. 

A primal instinct surged through Barbara, her form moving to the marionette cords of a demon. Carefully she set the needle upon its dais within the box and off onto her nightstand, scrambling to undress from her attire.

Her sweater came up over her head, frizzing her bunches of scarlet, serpentine curls. Her skin was glistening and damp, pale enough to contrast considerably with the darkness of her dimly lit room. Maple brown freckles peppered her shoulders, dotting down like cinnamon sugar over her delicate breasts, each a modest mound with a gentle curve. Her sweatpants came kicking off next, leaving her down to her bare black panties, fiery strands of hair just peeking out along the sides of the riding fabric.

-

Barabara took the needle, striking it against the edge of her nightstand, knowing somehow that it would work as it was intended to, whatever its purpose may be. The contact left the needle thrumming violently, like a fly trying to break free from her hold. 

Slowly she brought it to one of her bare breasts, testing the instrument against her sensitive flesh. The air rushed out of her with a gasp. The needle practically burned against her skin, like the sharp edge of a knife. She sucked in past her lips, bracing herself for another go. 

She pressed the length of it against her nipple, shivering as the vibrations bled into her. 

"What in the Hell," she spits, a wave of vibrations sinking into her chest. It spread slowly like a wildfire, encapsulating her heart before dispersing in a burst of butterflies. 

Barabara clutched at her chest, afraid that her heart might leap out. Deep in the back of her head, she knew now she should stop, throw the needle away and forget it even exists. Her spirit is a disastrous devil in disguise, however, hungry for whatever the instrument could provide her. 

The needle danced back over her other breast, Barbara wriggling on the bed as it tickled her. Her nipples were stiff pink pebbles, dripping in pleasure and a soft glaze of sweat. Between her legs, her undergarments began to stick to her with more than just perspiration, steadily growing wet between the heat of the room and her own arousal. 

A thumb hooked into the side of her panties, rolling them off over her lean, feline flanks. With a sultry little kick, she flung them to the floor, dropping back into her humid covers as she trailed the needle like a sidewinder down her lithe body. 

Her hand weaved a path of pleasure, testing each little erogenous lock on her body with stabbing vibrations that erupted into butterflies. Quiet eeps and moans fluttered out amidst her growing desire, explosive sparks of pleasure shooting up into her body from her leaking cunt.

-

The lamp at her bedside grew dimmer unnoticed, casting sickly light that flickered over her writhing shape. A quiet curse rang out, swallowed up instantly by her moans. Fingers stroked gently past her fiery pubes, slicking down onto her inner thighs, caressing herself. Sweet moans piled out of her one after the other while her fingers danced around her sensitive petals, stoking the fire hotter, and hotter. She could feel the surge coming, slowing herself as the needle began making its final trip along her body

Shadows poured into each corner of the room, awaiting the single turn of the key now. Her hand zigzagged down her abdomen with the needle, unknowingly bringing the pendulum closer to its cut. 

She bit her lip, ready to tip over the edge as she brought the needle down onto her clit. The sharp end vibrated voraciously, nipping at her jewel, the effects instantaneous. Her body began to buck as a furious orgasm collided with her, incapacitating her amidst the violent jolts, squirting and wetting whatever dry spots there might have been between her legs. There came a sudden sting as the needle pressed in from her loss of control. 

"Fuck," Barbara muttered, crunching over to examine herself once the orgasm began to wane. She sighed in relief, seeing that she had pricked just shy of her button, a pinprick of red on her pale skin.

When she moved to lean back, the distinct visage of a jackal caught her eye, off in the shadows to her left side, sneering with utter contempt.

"What the fu-," was all she could mutter before her entire face was wrapped in cold, steely fingers. 

-

Barbara flailed wildly, turning up her sheets as she pounded and lashed at the mattress. Any noise she could have hoped to make was muffled by the enormous hand that gripped her with vice-like strength. Someone's voice, vaguely human, but cemented in cold spite rang out. Another hand gripped at her body as she paused from shock.

"Smother, gag," the voice commanded. 

The redhead sucked down a gulp of fresh air as the grip loosened, throwing another scream. It didn't last long as a monstrous digit reeled into the back of her throat. A muffled cry subsided into a helpless whimper as she was given sight of her assailants. 

Her thoughts flooded from dark outcomes to confusion, seeing her company. In the left corner, there was the first stranger she had seen looming, feral eyes cooking her with a fiery stare. 

Barbara's emerald peepers broke from his and flew to the other side of her room. There stood an Aphrodite wrapped in latex, luscious pale blue skin pouring out of the rounded windows of her attire. She strained a crop in hand, smiling eagerly.

The captive woman could hear something skitter overhead, but as she tries to shift her attention, it was forced towards the figure now addressing her. A black veil covered his eyes, but she could feel them piercing through all the same. 

"You're a sinner, Barbara," taunts the stranger, inspecting the needle. She wasn't sure when he had grabbed it, equally concerned by the piece of aged parchment in his other hand, no doubt having been taken from the bottom of her drawer. He does not bother to show his comrades, nor does he choose to linger on the contents of the page, leaving his Gash to wonder.

Barbara herself wondered how he knew her name, but she didn't figure she'd get any answers from him, not that she could ask. 

"And a heretic to our Lord, no less," he accused with a snarl. The page began to dissolve in his hand, pocketing with holes as it slimed over and smoked with vapors. What was left in his palm was nothing more than a tiny melted clump, dropped to the floor like rubbish. A heeled boot smears it into the floor. He set the needle back within its box upon the nightstand.

"Now, what do you think we should do with someone like you? Rhetorical question, Smother!" The leader corrected his subordinate as the finger slipped to let their captive speak. Barbara choked on the solid mass of finger, thick enough to be an ogre's, as it thumped into the back of her throat.

Her judge ruminated in thought, a taloned nail stroking softly over his veiled nose. Unknown motives simmered away on the surface of his brain, undoubtedly cooking up all manner of punishment. A grin crooked under his veil, teeth glowing white.

"Smother, you will preach to her. Show her the blessing of order that can be bestowed upon her chaotic flesh. Preach to her Leviathan's law," commanded he. The others, in slight surprise, began seeping through the sieve of darkness that soaked the corners of the room, their time here clearly spent. 

"And do not forget Smother, you must bring something back," he warned with sternness in his voice. His form was swallowed slowly by the swirling black at his feet. Reality crumpled back into place as he submerged, leaving only Barbara and her would-be preacher. 

-

Barbara whimpered low and feeble, worming slightly against his grip. He had not moved for a minute or so, seemingly turned to stone. The woman closed her eyes, counting to ten and hoping she'd wake up from the nightmare. Her eyes opened, her body still locked in his hand while the other gagged her. 

The finger in her mouth began to withdraw slowly just as her mind had started to numb over from fear. Instinct roused a cry in her throat, whimpers ready to inflate into bloody shrieks. She's discouraged as Smother's blunt digit prods her tongue roughly a couple of times in warning. Barbara wriggled her head in a nod, submitting. Something told her that he'd have no problem plucking her tongue like a piece of grass if she gave him trouble. 

Smother's rod of a finger came sliding out with a helping of her saliva, sensually prying over her quivering lip. Barbara took down a gulp of air, thirsty for it. 

She's thrown free from his hold, hitting her mattress with a loud whump. Her hand parted some of the fiery strands tangling over her face, revealing the monolith of dread standing off from her bed. Her head went back, eyes rolling up and up. If he had been human once she refused to believe it. 

His arms were like tree trunks, rippling with muscle, pale and scarred with large nails stabbed through his biceps. His uniform, if it could be called that, consisted of a black butcher apron strapped with a myriad of knives and other torturous instruments, glimmering faintly in what little light her shady lamp offered. 

There was little to make of his face; it looked as if someone had, quite literally, smothered his head in shrink wrap. A bloody hole had been torn where his mouth would be, giving little sight at what lied underneath. Despite the suffocating barrier around his head, she could feel his eyes weighing on her.

-

Barbara slowly slipped to the edge of her bed, eyes glued to Smother as he stood motionlessly. She sprung from the bed, trying for the door. If she was lucky he wouldn't snatch her in time, but luck as it seemed, was off the menu. She came to a screeching halt as she neared the door, hearing a sharp whirr sound off around the doorway. 

At each corner of the doorframe, a hook manifested from the physical matter, nested within a metal anchor. She could hear the threatening jingle of chains from within the walls, each hook poised at her. Her mind painted the picture of what would happen if she went any further, quelling her thirst for freedom. A walk of shame is taken back to the edge of the bed, sitting anxiously. Whether he had intended to tease her with freedom, she could not tell, cursing whatever plot he had in play.

Smother's boots sounded loud as he moved to stand in front of her. His captive kept her head down, red curls hiding her face like a theater curtain. He drew that curtain back with a clench of his hand through her hair. She grunted, eyeing him with whatever spite she could muster. Doom seemed inevitable, so she did what any rational, annoyed human would do in such a situation. 

"So are you just gonna stand there like a sacrificial lamb all night? You don't know what to do now that daddy and the gang are gone? Figures I'd get the demon running his first rodeo." She griefed him, of course. A moment of silence, and then a deep rumble from Smother, oddly placid and without anger.

A quick shove had her lying on her back once more. His hand strayed to the upper portion of his apron, a single meaty finger trailing down the selection of cutlery. It glossed over handle, blade, and hook, leaving Barbara to eat every little lump that rose in her throat when he idled over an instrument. 

"I kinda like that one," she lied as he reaches a small knife, easily the least intimidating of the bunch. Another rumble rose from his throat, ignoring her suggestion. His hand finally reached a small open pocket at his side. She couldn't see what he pulled from it. In fact, it looked like he had grabbed nothing at all, pinching air between his fingers. His mass lowered towards her and the bed, kneeling on a sturdy knee. 

Barbara made a shrill squeak, feeling her naked thigh be taken hold of and her body pulled toward the Cenobite. His hand was forceful and cold, with a steady pulse that beat against her skin. The girl's heart pummeled against her chest as he secured her by the waist, moving those pinched fingers down between her legs. The light finally caught at the right angle, revealing the glimmer of a strand.

"Hey, hey Smother," she stuttered, hoping that hearing his name would lend her his ear. It did not. She began to fidget and kick her legs to no avail, her body strapped firm to the bed with a single hand. The tip hovers to the side of its target.

"Fuck, no, no no NO! Please, for the love of G-UAGH!" A shriek shot out of her like lightning as her clit was pierced with the metallic thread. Her legs pedaled at Smother, as effective as kicking at a brick wall. The soles of her feet were cut as they kicked and swiped over his gallery of knives. Barbara heaved, rolling out a pitiful whimper. At least the work had been clean, her torturer steady in hand. Smother's thick fingers began manipulating the thread, tying each loose end into a loop. With a few breaths to brace herself, Barbara scrunched up as well she could against Smother's hold. She watched, dismaying as he pinched the end of the loop.

"Couldn't you just kill me?" Barbara mumbled, looking at him with annoyance and tears in her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter will be coming along in due time.


End file.
